Page 3 of Rulebreaker (Gamebreakers #4)

THREE

Atlas

Her smile is sexy, confident, and it calls to the beast inside me.

The one that wants to see her chained to a bed, limbs sprawled, legs spread, all of that slick, soft pink heat on display for me.

Open for me.

Crying out my name.

Having endured so much pleasure from my fingers and lips and tongue and cock that she can’t so much as peel back her eyelids, never mind able to conjure up some of her special brand of sass for me.

I’ll coax that out of her too. And then find out exactly how far she’ll let me take it.

Maybe paddling that lush ass of hers until the globes turn pink. Maybe unearthing my nipple clamps. Maybe fucking her in both holes .

I was hard from the moment she sat down across from me, despite our conversation about fucking bidets of all things.

Now I’m so hard I’m aching.

I have the cure for that though—and it’s a certain pop star with a gorgeous body…and plump lips I want parting around my cock.

I push a button on my chair—one that signals to Maya and the others that we’re not to be disturbed…and likely that they’ll need to turn on something noise-canceling.

They won’t come out until I give them the signal.

Lily leans a little closer, one hand landing on my thigh, fingers grasping tightly around me…

and oh so close to my dick. Too close for my control.

Not nearly close enough for that particular body part.

Then her soft, floral scent is all around me, her lips coming to my ear, her words filled with humor. “I thought I told you to try me.”

I surge forward, arms banding around her waist. A tug has her toppling into my lap, her legs landing on either side of mine. Her tits against my chest, her ass against my pelvis, her…lips on mine.

This one is trouble for sure.

I was going to kiss her when I was good and ready.

Now, though, with her mouth pressing to mine, I’m less focused on what I was going to do and more on what is happening right now.

She tastes like champagne.

She feels like sin.

She sounds—the soft moan vibrating up my throat and across my tongue—like everything I’ve ever dreamed of.

I slide one palm up her spine, dive it into her hair, the soft tresses tickling the back of my hand, tangling over my fingers. Using that to my advantage, I press my fingertips against her scalp, tilting her head, positioning her lips exactly as I want, holding her in place…

So I can plunder her mouth.

So I can take everything I want.

So I can discover all that she likes.

“Atlas,” she gasps, pressing against my chest, sucking in rapid gusts of air. “I need to breathe.”

“No, Texas,” I murmur, rising to my feet, setting her on hers.

She wavers, and it’s nothing to do with the slight bobs and weaves as the pilot navigates the plane to Denver, coasting over the San Gabriel and San Bernardino mountains. It’s the kiss…and it’s the alcohol.

So, even though I’ve wrapped my hand around hers, preparing to draw—or maybe drag —her back to the bedroom, I lock down my desire, stare deeply into those beautiful blue eyes of hers, and study her closely as I ask, “Are you drunk?”

I expect her to crack a joke.

Or maybe to say that it’s no big deal, even if she is.

But, as Lily is often wont to do, she surprises me.

Her free hand touches my jaw. Her expression goes soft. The humor in her blue eyes fades, gentleness taking its place. “I’m tipsy,” she murmurs. “But I’m not drunk.”

I crouch a little, studying her gaze, her face.

And eventually, I decide she’s telling the truth.

We’re close, our gazes locked, but before I can go back to hauling her into the bedroom, I get to watch the mischief come back, get to see the gold flecks in her eyes spark with humor. “And I’m not nearly drunk enough to not give consent to a broody billionaire who’s about to fuck my brains out.”

My mouth drops open.

She smiles widely.

And…I let the be ast fly free.

I step back, get to watch her lips part in surprise as I order, “On your knees.”

Her eyes go wide and she starts to kneel.

“Wait.”

Brows flicking up, she waits.

“Get naked first.”

She smiles wickedly. Then she reaches for the hem of her shirt. “How’d I know you’d be naughty, Atlas Delarosa?”

Before I can answer, she’s yanking the material over her head, shoving down her pants.

She kicks off one shoe and then the other, and I almost stop her right after she steps out of her slacks.

Sheer lace hiding nothing and everything.

I need her naked.

She reaches behind her, unclasps her bra, and my dick goes even harder at the sight of pert pink nipples, breasts that I can’t wait to get my mouth on.

Then she’s pushing down her underwear.

“Fuck,” I growl.

Her mouth hitches up, eyes pools of humor and heat. Why do I have the feeling this woman is going to be the death of me?

“Where was I?” she asks, tapping a finger on her lips.

“Knees,” I order.

She shivers. But complies, and it’s a moment later that I’m stepping forward, undoing the button on my slacks, drawing down the zipper, allowing my dick to pop free.

“Christ,” she whispers. “Look at that.”

I stroke up and down, up and down. Then I hold her gaze. “Suck me.”

The eager way she crawls forward, red lips parting, immediately sucking at the head of my cock, nearly undoes me.

Then she swallows me deep and I bob against the back of her throat .

Fucking hell.

Gripping the strands of her hair, I fuck her mouth slow and steady, intoxicated by the sleek darts of her tongue, the tight heat of her throat, the rough caress of her teeth.

Fucking perfect.

She’s fucking perfect.

Especially when she adds a hand, squeezing tightly, stroking in time to my thrusts.

Her moans vibrate through me.

Those red lips tempt me close to the edge.

Too close.

“Enough, Texas,” I order, slowing my thrusts, starting to draw back.

She doesn’t let me, moaning and sucking me deeper, hand moving faster.

I hold still, let her do that for a few moments—because it feels so fucking good—but then I feel the first sparks of my orgasm and know that I’m playing far too close to the flames.

Holding tight to those silken tresses, I draw her off me.

The pop when I spring free nearly kills me.

The lipstick ring around my dick brings me even closer to death.

But it’s when she reaches for me again almost immediately that almost undoes every bit of my control.

Right. Can’t have that.

I bend, tugging her arm at the same time, tossing her over my shoulder. She shrieks, but I don’t stop walking, just carry her into the bedroom of the plane, kick the door closed behind me.

I dump her on the bed, take advantage of the fact that she’s naked and wet and stroke between her legs—not gently, not slowly. I pinch her clit, thrust a finger inside, crawl over her so I can suck at her nipples, can fondle her breasts .

“Atlas!” she cries.

But I don’t stop, just murmur against her breast, “Come on my fingers, Texas.”

Her pussy flutters, clamping tight. But she’s stubborn, fighting me as she murmurs, “Inside me.”

I kneel between her legs, pushing her legs further apart.

And then I’m on her, tasting the sweet musk of her desire, fucking her with my tongue, feeling those flutters increase.

“With me,” she demands.

But I don’t stop, just keep driving her higher and higher, propelling her to the edge, memorizing every moan that fills the air as her head rolls back and forth on the pillow, every flex of her hips as she grinds against my mouth.

And then I feel it.

That she’s there.

Groaning, I redouble my efforts and—fuck yeah.

“Atlas!”

She convulses around me, going even wetter, even hotter. I keep going, drawing out every last dredge of her pleasure.

Only then do I pull out a condom from the nightstand drawer.

Roll it down the length of my cock.

And then I thrust home.

She’s tight. Scorching hot. Slick.

It’s good. Too good, but I know that I’ll cut off my left arm before I rush this. So, even though I want to go fast, want to just fuck hard and deep, I go slow.

I ratchet her desire back up.

I watch her face, coax her body to seek out pleasure again, and most importantly. I don’t. Stop. Fucking. Her.

But each thrust sends me closer to the edge of my control, each clasp of her cunt around me fraying the strands a little more. I’m too damned near exploding, too damned? —

“ Atlas ,” she moans.

And thank fuck, I find it—the perfect angle, the right speed, the exact swivel of my hips that will send her flying.

I repeat exactly that, over and over again, listening to my name tumble from her mouth, sending us both right up to the precipice.

“Let me feel that cunt of yours squeeze me tight, baby.”

Her eyes flare. Her pussy tells me she likes that.

So I don’t stop. “You’re so wet, Texas. I want to lap you up and then fuck you all over again just so I can keep the taste of you on my tongue.”

“Atlas,” she moans again.

“Now, baby. Let go,” I order. “Let me feel you milk me dry.”

“ Fuck!” she groans, hips bucking, neck arching, and thank fucking God, her pussy clamping around me as she comes apart.

That’s all it takes for me to lose control, my thrusts going wild, my orgasm tearing through me.

Pleasure like I’ve never felt before explodes through me, burning through each and every cell and it takes everything in me to roll us to the side, to not collapse on top of her and crush her half to death.

I make it to my side.

Then it’s all I can do to just lay there while I catch my breath.

Until she giggles softly.

I run my fingers through her hair. “What’s that laugh for, Texas?”

“Well, hell, Atlas,” she says, eyes filled with mirth. “I think you’ve just officially initiated me into the Mile High Club.”